


there’s a lighthouse calling

by akaeijis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, another - Freeform, anxiety! lance, basically a lot of usage of the ocean waves and sea and the stars and home im sorry, before season 2 information, homesick! lance, klance, lance is tired bring him home, non explicit nsfw text
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9363182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaeijis/pseuds/akaeijis
Summary: There are stars, the glow in the dark ones, on Lance's ceiling that he put up when they moved to California. There are galaxy posters on his blue walls. He’s full of love for the universe. But there are reminders of the ocean, like the surfboard by his window and salt in the air.In space, none of that is there.(Lance’s journey from his love to the ocean to the universe to back home.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!! I've been writing this since September and stopped, then I realized season 2 was like in a week and rushed to finish. 
> 
> To skip mentions of an anxiety attack, skip the section with: "He names all of the stars after his family...He can’t breathe. "
> 
> To skip the non-explicit nsfw text, skip the section with: "Keith kisses Lance’s cross...Minutes later, "
> 
> The title is inspired by Swimming Pools, by Troye Sivan

_‘Where we love is home -_

_home that our feet may leave,_

_but not our hearts.’_

_-Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr._

Lance sneaks out a lot. It’s easy in a house of eleven and some. (He’s fourteen, he can handle himself.) They live in a one-story house, so all Lance has to do is pop the window open and take his board, always perched to the side of the window. His longboard is a pretty thing, washed out white with self-painted orange and blue flowers on the bottom. He wears one of his many swim shirts and a pair of blue trunks. His flip flops squish down the patchy grass, slipping out of the red gate, and - and he’s free.  

He dances around the busy streets, neon lights glaring at him and cars honking. He trudges through alleyways, it’s dangerous, sure - but he trusts the air of Cali. He knows where people don’t go. He constantly turns, changing direction in the labyrinth of a city he’s in. As he dwells farther, the buildings become shorter, city lights dimmer, his footsteps quicker. The cacophony of cars passing and trains and street lamps and night clubs and neon lights - all fade into the calling of the ocean, palm trees, and soft lights that dangle by the boardwalk. He knows the best spots, where the sky isn’t blocked by cliffs or city life. He walks toward the end, looking for his destination.

Lance reaches it, a little rock formation, goes under - then is greeted hello by the Pacific Ocean. Then all he sees are blue, black, and billions of stars, winking at him. The sky is far away and bright, creating jagged shadows out of the cliffs that overlook the alcove. The stars are spilled glitter on an infinite canvas, floating in patterns and swirls. He can hear an echo, galaxies pulsing in cadence to his heartbeat, calling him. He cranes his neck, eyes wide, left to right. It confines him down, making him feel lost. But he feels found and freed at the same time. It’s too much. Not enough. He’s so small.

Like the stars beckoning him forward, the ocean does too by reminding him that it’s there with spraying salt on his lips and crashing waves by his toes. The sand below him isn’t as smooth as Laguna or Venice or wherever tourists go. But water still crashes through. He gazes across the ocean, a simple reflection of the sky. If he squints, he can see the stars and the moon. Lance knows the more reclusive beaches have clearer water. He steps out of his flip flops, reaches the soggy sand that clings to his feet.

Lance’s body moves on his own, yearning for the ocean. The ocean is the closest thing he has to flying. He breaches the surf with his board, legs spread in between. He paddles forward, hands dipping into the cold current, the tides pushing and pulling him. The breeze tickles him, sounding like the chime of bells. The crash of waves create a lullabye for him. He loves the ocean.

He looks back above. The taste of salt is still on his lips, rumble of the sea behind him, sky staring back at him. As much as Lance loves the city - this is where he thinks the real night life is. This alcove, where the horizons meet. He closes his eyes, galaxies leaving tattoos beneath his eyelids and feels all the other sensations hitting him from every angle.

When he opens them, the sky seems so much closer. He feels like he can reach out to grab them. He stretches his arm out, fingers spread out. He dreams of going there one day.

When the stars twinkle between his now wrinkled fingers, Lance goes home.

 

-

 

Lance fell in love with the sky when he was seven years old. He remembers the sweet lull from the hammock from the beach, the soft rays reaching and warming him from the pink and orange horizon. He remembers the familiar fragrance of his mother and how her fingers brushed his hair away from his face. His fingers and toes weren’t cold. His mother’s warmth encasing him in a feeling that could only be described as home.

She pulled a lock of hair behind his ear. “M’ijo,” She whispered, “I would do anything to give you all the stars.”

When they moved from Cuba to California, Lance asked for glow in the dark stars. His room was originally plain blue, decorated as the years gone by. Glow in the dark stars splayed over his ceiling, a few on the top of his walls. Posters of spaceships and comics and maps of constellations were taped, his shelves filled with Star Wars merchandise. Soon, there was a Garrison poster on his door and astronomy books on the shelves. However, there’s still some things that still carry the sea. His collection of sea shells, hand drawn fishes on the walls, the seashell lamp, his board by his window.

(He misses Cuba, with only vague memories. He misses the bright buildings, playing soccer in town squares with his brothers, warm alleys smelling like empanadas. Night lights illuminating the city. He remembers Varadero Beach, with it’s clear blue waters and white sand. The warmest water he’s ever felt, hanging from the smallest palm trees. Finding shells on the shores, his father teaching him how to swim, saying hello to the fishes underneath. Lance’s first love was the ocean. There’s only one place in the universe that has all these things.)  
  
When the Keroberos Mission was announced, Lance taped another poster up.

 

-

 

Hunk moves across the street when Lance is twelve. He sees a U-Haul truck through the gaps of his gate, boxes being filed out into the previously empty house.  There’s a boy wearing a yellow shirt, sitting on one of the boxes. The boy’s sweating, boxes are heavy and the sun beating down doesn’t help. Lance makes the decision, dust tracks from his tattered gym shoes follow him out of the gate and his dog’s frisbee in his hand. His dog, Max, isn’t far behind him.

His fingers curl on the gate of the other family, and the boy looks up to Lance. Lance waves his hand, the one with the frisbee, and blurts, “Hi!”

The other boy looks up, smiling meekly and waves a hand up, “Hi.”

Lance pushes the frisbee over the fence, squishes his face, and says, “I’m Lance, do you wana play with my dog Max?”

The boy is silent, but nods after a few beats. Lance’s smile stretches across his whole face. The other boy is shy, but Lance loves getting to know people. Hunk lets Lance and Max in and Lance asks, “What’s your name?”

The boy replies, “Hunk,” smiling a little more. Lance reaches out to shake his hand. Hunk’s hands are larger than his own and Lance can’t wait to be Hunk’s best friend.

(They do become best friends. Lance learns that Hunk is from Samoa, but moved because of a job transfer. His mom basically adopts Hunk and so does Hunk’s own family to Lance. They learn how to surf together, they grow up together. Hunk paints the orange flowers on his board while Lance does the blue ones. Hunk is family.)

 

-

 

“Do you really want to sign up, Lance?”

“Yeah, I do! I can’t wait to go see space!”

“Doesn’t that mean you’re going to leave us?”

“I can’t get piloting jobs until I’m twenty-one. That’s a long time, Fernie.”

“So, I’m still gona see you until you’re twenty-one? That’s like six years!”

“Yeah, you’ll be thirteen by then!”

(Lance is seventeen when he’s chosen as a paladin. Fernanda is nine years old when he leaves.)

 

-

 

Lance whispers a prayer and signs up for the Garrison when he’s fifteen, along with Hunk. (The Keroberos poster is up a few months before.)

He visits the ocean one last time, in the afternoon, alone. He doesn’t go to his alcove, but he goes somewhere by the less crowded portions of the boardwalk. Not too crowded, but still some life. He sits criss-cross on his board as he paddles forward on the lazy current. The warm beams of the sun comfort him, like his mother’s hand against his face. The horizon is blazing, flames twirl where the sky meets the sea. The noise of the bustling crowds behind him, sand castles falling, laughing children, romantic whispers during strolls.

It’s going to be his last time to kiss sea salt for a while.

Lance looks behind him. There are things that anchor him, things that tell him not to go. But he says his woeful goodbyes to pretty girls and silent ones to pretty boys. He says his farewells to California, the ocean, his family, his home - and says hello to worlds above.

 

-

 

Lance thinks he’s pretty good as a beginning pilot. Many at the Garrison have been training as prodigies from their wealthy families, but for one on the lower side of things, he’s pretty good. He would consider him the best of the worst. Flight classes in his first year teach him the controls, he just can’t act naturally with it. He wants to flow in space, but it’s hard to connect to a steel, all sharp edges, machine. His goal is to make it to the fighter class - he loves flying, but you can’t thread through the universe as a cargo pilot.

Years of reading the books from his shelves under his sheets with a flashlight come into play. He can keep up with the rest of the class. Lance isn’t _bad_. He pays attention in class, calls his family weekly, tries his best at simulators. But it’s Kogane who doesn’t - but still the top flier. Lance glares at the back of Kogane’s ugly hair daily, resting his cheeks on his palm. He sees Kogane not pay attention in class, gazing at windows. But he also sees Kogane first in line when it’s time for flight simulations. (They go into different rooms during simulations, but Lance still notices.)

Lance hasn’t actually talked to Keith. But he feels like he has to compete, be better than him. He also feels a strange connection, similar to when he saw Hunk across the street through his gate or when he meets Pidge sitting alone at the dining tables. He likes - _loves_ , watching Keith fly. He’s only seen it a couple of times he was allowed in the fighter class rooms to observe. He looks natural, like he _connects_. Keith looks complete there, sitting on the pilot chair, hands soaring across the controls like how Lance glides on water. This is where Keith belongs. There’s a fire in Keith that’s absent in the confining classrooms. There’s a passion for flying in Keith, so maybe Lance idolizes him a little as well.

(There are times when he wakes up in the middle of the night, cold sweat, shadows reminding him that he’s alone. He hears a voice saying _not good enough, annoying stupid idiot, can’t even fly a plane right, no one cares, why do you even try-_ )

Two years later - Keith Kogane drops out and Lance steps into fighter class.

(After that, Lance is seventeen, not twenty one, when he helps Keith free Shiro, find the Blue Lion, and get involved in a whole Alien Conspiracy. Without calling home.)  

 

-

 

Lance sneaks out a lot. A habit that's never left him. He’s not sure if it’s really considered sneaking out in an open ship with seven people. He steps around in socks, puts his robe around himself as he goes around. The whole castle is made out of hard edges, hollow material that reminds him of steel. The ceiling goes endlessly up, hallways narrow. Everything is contained and cold. The colors are blue and black and white and gray. His favorite color is blue - but there’s no warmth in space. There’s no palm trees swaying to a mild breeze, no gentle rock of waves, no warm rays to remind him of his family.

His favorite place is the main deck. Lance doesn’t _do_ anything there. But he just, scoots himself as much as he can to the windows, knees up to his chest. He watches them float throughout the universe, passing celestial bodies underneath them. It’s nothing like floating on water. It’s nothing like the ocean. His eyes travel through the stars and planets, like watching raindrops race in a car, trying to navigate home. Through the multitude of things they pass, he likes to think that Earth is one of the things in his vision. To comfort him, that Earth, _home_ , could be close.

His dream is right here. He has the entire universe in front of him. He has all the stars, right here.  He’s said his goodbyes and his hellos. But now that he’s here, the galaxies pulsing inside of him are replaced by echoes of his family. But now that he’s here, all he wants to do is crawl back home.

 

-

 

Hunk understands - Hunk loves his family and vice versa. But Lance’s love is deep as the ocean and vast as the universe. He feels like he has too much love for his body and that he’ll just explode one day.

Lance misses home more than he ever realized. But hours turn into days and days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months and months turn into however long it's been. Lance feels his face grow coarser, hints of stubble growing. His skin doesn’t glow like before. When he looks in the mirror, he sees his hair grow longer, curling on the edges. There are circles under his eyes. He feels his callouses when cold fingers touch the contours of his face.

He tries to comfort himself, saying that with this job - he’s protecting Earth, where his family is. But he’s so tired now.

(He’s growing old. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. He doesn’t know how many birthdays or Christmases he’s missed. He doesn’t know if he missed his brother getting married. He doesn’t know the name of his aunt and uncle’s kid. He doesn’t know if Miguel got his first kiss. He doesn’t know how old Fernanda is. He doesn’t know when he’s going to come back home.)

 

-

 

Lance slips out of parties a few time as well. They’ve been to so many planets, parties are a bit of a regular. It’s not that he doesn’t like them, it’s just the lights and room filled laughter and bodies hits too close to home and alien alcohol doesn’t help.

Planets do have suns and it’s a nice change to being locked in a metal castle. But it also just makes him miss home even more. There are three, tiny suns, that are setting on this particular planet. But the gradient colors of pink to yellow to orange are the same. He goes to a terrace, sitting on the nice cream colored ledge.

“Why do you always do this?” Someone asks behind him. Lance turns around to see Keith, arms crossed, drink in one hand, leaning by one of the columns.

“Do what?”

“Always leave,” Keith walks closer to him until they’re sitting next to each other.

Lance doesn’t know if it’s from being drained or watching the sunset or alien alcohol or the bubbly feeling in his chest, but Lance tells him, “Reminds me of home.”

 

-

 

“KEITH! I TOLD YOU TO GO LEFT! _LEFT_!”

“I COULDN’T JUST LEAVE YOU! I DON’T THINK YOU COULD HAVE HANDLED IT YOURSELF!”

“DO YOU HAVE A FUCKING DEATH WISH? DO YOU _WANT_ TO DIE?”

“I’D RATHER DIE THAN YOU!”

“MY LIFE ISN’T WORTH YOURS, IDIOT!”

“YOU HAVE A HOME TO GET TO, LANCE. DON’T FORGET THAT!”

(Lance’s knees drop after that, Keith kneeling in front of him.Everything’s a blur but Keith’s arms are around his shoulders, whispering sorry’s. Lance wants to keep his new family safe, while finding his way back to his old one.)

 

-

 

He names all of the stars after his family until he’s finished listing off names. Then repeats. One for his mom, his dad, his brothers, his sisters, his aunt, his uncles, his grandparents....

It keeps him sane. He murmurs to himself before he sleeps, to not forget. But it doesn’t stop him from panicking. When he forgets one of his cousin’s name. When he can’t think of his younger sister’s birthday.

Lance wakes up in cold sweat, alone in his cabin. He inhales sharply, needing air. The bed is firm, dark sheets. Nothing special. No peeling stars that faintly glow, no collection of seashells by his bedside, no call of the ocean, and no call of home. He can only hear his heartbeat, roaring in his ear. Too loud and too fast. He’s shaking. There’s a tightness in his chest and he feels like he’s drowning underwater. He’s drowning, but there’s sobs down his throat and he can’t breathe. His arms are shaking and he can’t move. He can’t see anything, he’s blanking. He can’t see. He can’t hear. He can’t move. He can’t breathe in. He can’t breathe.

 

-

 

Experience teaches him how to become colder, to connect to machinery. His controls become natural to him. (Not like swimming or surfing or like Keith, but natural as a means to survive.) Every day he wakes up, every shot he fires, every Galra he kills, every time _they_ win a battle - it’s one step to coming back home. He doesn’t have his beauty sleep or any products or any trivial things anymore.

He doesn’t hesitate to kill anymore. He doesn’t hesitate doing reckless, stupid moves if it will kill more. He barely spares a glance.

Lance and Keith work together, as a pair. Together, they’re Voltron’s best offence sans Shiro and Allura/Coran. They work well together, a team, when they’re not formed as Voltron. They’re quick, offensive, and balance each other out. Lance keeps Keith back to think a little bit more, Lance learns to be more cruel, more impulsive.

(Maybe he’s falling in love.)

But distance also keeps Lance warm. He’s more tender in moments where it counts (every second). He keeps Pidge company in their search for family. Hums lullabies when he’s in the kitchen with Hunk. Bandages Shiro’s wounds with how his tia taught him. Thread his fingers in Keith’s hair as they lay on the couch in the commons, watching the cosmos pass by when they can’t sleep. Moments where it wouldn’t matter if the universe was burning. Just like Lance won’t hesitate in audacious moves to kill more, he won’t hesitate in doing more to save the people he loves.

 

-

 

“My mom cooked empanada a lot. Do you think-”

“Cooks.”

“What?”

“You said, ‘cooked’, Lance.”

“Oh.”

(Shiro pats his shoulder. The look in Shiro’s eyes say that it’s okay. It’s not Lance’s fault.)

 

-

 

Lance is on the main deck again. His head rests against the glass, he feels like he’s seen all of this before. It becomes routine: wake up, clean up, see stars, train, eat, see stars, wash up, sleep, sea stars, etc, etc. He forgets his love for space, his love for exploration, his love for flying. It’s no longer an infinite journey, a beautiful unknown. The castle walls and windows seem to blend together. Like bleak bars of a cage.

 

-

 

“I used to - I mean, I have these glow in the dark stars in my room, ya’know. They don’t really work anymore, but I’m so attached to them.” 

“One time, I tried to take them off but I ended up chipping paint instead.”

“Thank you, Hunk. Anyway, Pidge, I bet you had those too, didn’t you.”

(Pidge shrugs. But a few cycles later, there are glowing stars on the ceiling of his room. They’re easy to move, some alien adhesive.)

 

-

 

Keith kisses Lance’s cross necklace gently and pushes it to the side. “Do you trust me?” He whispers and Lance nods.

Lance is on his back, seeing Keith, sweat dripping down the side of his face, on a backdrop of glow in the dark stars. Keith pushes a few hairs away from Lance’s face. Keith is warm, always. Lance can imagine they’re doing it on Earth, in his home.

His fingers aren’t cold with Keith.

Keith loves passionately, each hit driving him up like the surge of the ocean. With each tender moment, he feels the sun breathe in him again. Lance’s fingers travel to the back of Keith’s hair, pulling a little. The air is filled with a musky scent, of Keith. When Keith drives in at a slightly different angle, Lance arches his back, feet knocking the bedposts, crying out god’s name. He feels like he’s drowning again, drowning in Keith. All at once, it’s too hot, too much.

Minutes later, Keith’s fingers tread through Lance’s hair lazily, filled with exhaustion. But Lance isn’t cold. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine the same warmth Keith provides is the rays of the sun, of his mom. He can imagine that they’re tangled in his blue sheets. That they put up photos of all of them on his walls. That he’ll wake up besides Keith and the tide calling him out of his window. That they’ll roam down the streets of California, blissed under the sun. That he’ll show Keith his little alcove and go stargazing. To go sleep, next to Keith, under his fading, plastic stars - knowing they’ll be home the next day.

Lance hugs Keith’s middle, and it’s warm. Keith is always warm.

 

-

 

Allura tells them that tomorrow is the big day. The final battle. D-Day. Lance kneels by his bedside, arms sinking into the mattress, his cross clasped in between his hands. He prays. Things are finally turning around. His knees start to ache, but he doesn’t stop praying. He’s going home.

 

-

 

“Oh my, God. Oh my, God. OH MY GOD, PIDGE, LOOK OUT!”

 

-

 

When they land their lions, Lance inhales. They’re done. His eyes blur over the controls, but Blue opens the hatch for him to leave. He sees that they’ve landed on a planet with a bright blue sky, mirroring the same one back home. He limps down the rail, meeting dark ground with a consistency of clay. He sees Hunk tending to Pidge, smiling brightly like Hunk always does. Shiro’s far off, talking with Allura and Coran.

And then there’s Keith.

There’s bubbles inside Lance and he runs as fast he can, laughter bubbling in his chest. This is the happiest he’s ever felt. When he crashes into Keith, he accidentally pushes them into the ground. Air is knocked a little out of both of them, but they’re alive. Alive. Lance laughs in between tears and sobs. He wraps his arms around Keith’s face, brushing his bangs. Keith is laughing too and Lance sees stars in his eyes.

An explosion happens inside Lance, for a split second. He feels the busy city of Havana, smell of his mother’s cooking. He feels Varadero Beach, the deep tides speaking to him. He feels the streets of California, the little alcove. He feels his love of the universe, his love for exploration, his love for naming stars, his love of looking in telescopes, his love of flying, his love - all floods back into him.

Lance loves Keith.

He kisses Keith, square on the mouth, trying to convey love that’s huge, beautiful, passionate, and pure as the universe to Keith.

 

-

 

(They find Pidge’s family, Shiro half in tears hugging Matt. Pidge has to wear an eye patch, there are some things a healing pod can’t heal. He longs to get back to his family, while holding Keith’s hand.)

 

-

 

When they land back, they find out that it’s been four years. Lance is immediately torn from Allura, Coran, Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, and - Keith. He’s placed in a grey square cell, alone. They give him three little meals per day, allow him to wash up, use the toilet. But he’s alone. He feels the shadows whisper to him again at night. He doesn’t care about politics or the Garrison or intergalactic messes, it doesn’t matter to him. He just wants to cry in frustration, bang on the walls, and go home.

He spends eighteen days in the cell before he’s finally let out. The guards open his door and shuffle him out of the hallway. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen and he bites the inside of his lip. He doesn’t keep his eyes up, not wanting to see what waits for him.

The guard stops and a pair of shoes are in his vision. Yellow flats with pink flowers on the side, the one on the left broken. There’s only one person in the world with those shoes. Lance knows them. He’s the one who broke the left flower. He feels his jaw open. And he looks up.

It’s his mom.

Her arms are already reaching out toward him, tears brimming her eyes, and she whispers. “M’ijo,” He leans toward the touch, the touch he’s missed for years. It’s delicate, like she’s scared he’ll leave. Lance is scared too. His mom has another wrinkle line on her forehead, she cut her hair to her shoulders, curls more grey than before. He grips her hands that caress his cheeks. He’s pulled into a hug, his mom whispering prayers in the crook of his shoulders.

 

-

 

His family offer him a few days on his own. Lance’s room has been left untouched, somehow making him feel alone. He wedges his window open, inhales, and listens to California.

He checks himself in the mirror, grip tightening over the counter. He’s grown into his bones, filling in the last inches of his body with muscles. His face is a little wider, a hint of stubble on the bottom of his chest, a scar across his chest. He’s no longer the lanky, wide-eyed, seventeen year old boy. Lance is twentyone. He’s lost four years of his life. Rubbing the bottom of his face, he still has circles around his eyes. He lets go of the counter and pads down the hallway.

In the halls, he glances at the photographs on the wall. The most recent one before he left was one of the whole family, Lance showing his piloting permit proudly to the camera. He moves forward, finding one of his older brother and his fiancee, proudly showing their rings. His younger brother graduating middle school and younger sister graduating grade school. His older sister’s birthday, screaming drunk on top of a table.

The last one at the end of the hallway isn’t a picture, but a poster of him. Of seventeen year old, smooth curves, innocent eyed, orange Garrison uniform clad him.  

_‘Missing: Lance Sanchez_

_17 years old, Cuban, tan skin, blue eyes_

_Please contact the Garrison or family’_

Lance tapers with the bottom of the aging, yellow paper. He tears his eyes away and walks out of his house, sits on one of the plastic chairs in front of their lawn. He notices a little grave in the corner, small enough for a dog. He watches the streets go by through the gaps of their still red fence, a little chipped. It feels so surreal, like walking in a dream. He’s been thinking of home ever since they left, but now that he’s here - everything seems different. The grass is different, the paints are chipping, the cars passing aren’t the same. He’s lost so much time.

Slowly, hours pass and the sky turns into the familiar, warm orange. Maybe the sun missed him too. Things slow down, and he sees Hunk come out of his house. Lance waves.

 

-

 

“What’s going to happen now?”

“It’s not going to be disclosed to the public, but we will be compensated.”

“What about everyone else?”

“Hunk is allowed to go back home.”

“Mom.”

“They have to be under Garrison surveillance for a while.”

(Lance feels like there are oceans between him and the rest, and he’s tired of being separated.)

 

-

 

Time passes and Lance is trying. He starts taking care of himself again, callouses go away but scars don’t. He gets a haircut, starts going back to his routine again. He starts working in the restaurant, surfing with Hunk, walking around California again. He’s home, but something’s missing. It doesn’t feel completely like home.

He taps his fingers on one of the tables of the restaurant, no customers around. It’s around three in the afternoon, everyone else is enjoying the beach. It’s peaceful to have a few hours for himself, the small fan blasting at him from the ceiling.

Then someone yanks him from his shoulders, interrupting his lazy afternoon, and pulls him up. Lance is about to say, ‘excuse me, fuck you’, but something stops him. Keith. Keith, who looks slightly out of breath, red spreading across his cheeks, hair clinging to the sides of his face. Keith, with a scar still on his left arm, holding him. Keith, with dark eyes - is here.

Lance feels like the wind is knocked out of him, chokes a hitched breath, and whispers, “Keith.”

Keith hugs him so sudden, so tight, encasing him with intensity all around. One of Keith’s hands tighten by his waist, the other climbs up to Lance’s hair. Lance just wraps his arms around Keith’s neck and breaths in chorus to Keith.

(Shiro and Pidge and Hunk and Allura and Coran come in a few minutes later. Lance feels tears in his eyes, legs a little shaky. _This_ is what was missing. He’s didn’t realize that he’s made a home away from home in the years he was gone.)

 

-

 

Lance can hear the ocean. He’s laying on his back, right arm pinned. His eyes aren’t open, but he feels the sun rays resting on his lids. He grunts and turns a little to his right, sheets tangling by his waist. He slowly opens eyes, feeling the crust in the inner corners. It’s early, he’s dead tired but - but he smiles. The rays create a halo and surround the edges of the figure beside him. He wakes up to Keith by his side.

Lance’s eyes adjust to the morning glare and he studies the new photos on his wall. There’s one of him and Hunk, holding their new dog named Ale. There’s another one of all of them with Allura and Coran, smiling brightly. One with Shiro smiling sheepishly by his old Kerberos poster. And one of him and Keith, the beach as their background.

His attention is back on Keith, brushing stray locks away from his face. There are still plastic stars on his ceiling. Keith stirs, nuzzling further into Lance’s hand. Keith gradually wakes and Lance presses his lips to Keith’s forehead.

 

-

 

“Shh,” Lance whispers, pulling his window up. Keith grins stupidly under the shadows and Lance knows he looks equally stupid. He leaves his board by the windowsill, it’s not for tonight. (It’s still the same, but with more flowers that everyone else painted. Just like they did to himself, imprinting a part of themselves to him. They’re a part of him now.) He grabs Keith’s wrist and slips out of the window. Air flutters with his white undershirt. The ground is tough and dry underneath his flip flops.

He tugs Keith through boulevards and alleyways. Shops and people have changed and shifted the years he was gone, but the streets are still as bustling as before. The neon turn into the boardwalk lights, floating on a string and reflecting on the sea. It’s a soft, romantic detail that makes Lance glance Keith. He finds the rock formation and pulls Keith with him. He hasn’t been here since the day before the left for the Garrison. Not ever since he came back. He was too scared.

When they’re on the other side, he breathes in the Pacific.

Lance hears Keith’s breath hitch and Lance turns his attention above, where fragile, gleaming glass is. The stars twinkle like before. Galaxies are still in tempo with his heartbeat, but they no longer call for him. He no longer feels lost, no longer feels small. He feels found and at home. He still loves space and flying. Maybe he’ll take it up again. But not now. The universe has become a part of him, no longer unknown. There’s only a gentle lull of a tide inside of him, one that will never leave him.

He feels a tug on his hand and looks back to Keith. The breeze flirts around them, playing with Keith’s hair. The surf brushes at their feet, damping the sand below them. There’s the sweet kiss of the ocean. Keith pulls Lance a little closer, a hand on his shoulder and another clasping his palm. Then he puts out his left foot. His right. Left. Then turns them around. The crash of the waves and distant song of people as music. Lance lips turn upwards and dips Keith, until his hair skim the sand. Keith’s smile and laughter is infectious, erupting a bubbly feeling inside of Lance. He needs to hear that sound again, so he twirls Keith around, spinning him until Keith’s back meets his chest and the sand sprays their legs. Keith laughs again. Lance feels his feet lift off the ground and he falls in love all over again.

 They twirl and spin until they’re holding each other chest to chest, slowly bumping from one foot to another. Lance’s eyes flicker up above, the stars smiling. Lance closes his eyes, feeling the warmth radiating from Keith. Keith helps him fly when he's on the ground.

(Lance is everything from the edges of the ocean, the ends of the universe, the love that erupts in him everyday.)

He’s home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love my boy Lance, I actually don't care about the universe, he's gonna actually just drop Voltron and go back home, Universe be damned.
> 
> You should also check out my other homesick lance fic, it's called 'crawling home'.
> 
> I also have a few Filipino! Lance fics thought of for a while ever since a few of my friends and I started talking about it so keep a watch on for that! I love fildub Lance with all my heart. If you're interested in some Fil! Lance, you should check out ao3 user @mayerwien bc it makes me cry everyday.
> 
> -
> 
> A few songs helped me writing this, so tell me if you would be interested in a playmix! You guys should check out the few I have: http://8tracks.com/hakaeijis or https://playmoss.com/en/hakaeijis 
> 
> Talk to me on my newly renovated tumblr @flowerlance or on twitter @hakaeijis !! I love talking to new people. 
> 
> Please kudos and comment!


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